Unfinished
by SpyKid18
Summary: After Finn's death, Rachel moves in with Blaine and Kurt in New York. Having trouble dealing with Finn's death, the boys convince Rachel to go and see a grief counselor. At the weekly meeting, Rachel finds herself face to face with Jesse St. James, and sees that she's not the only person who lost someone. ST. BERRY AU
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Warning - get your tissues ready. This one's not for the faint of heart.**

Unfinished

Rachel was riding in the back of a taxi cab, New York's skyscrapers towering above her as the cab wove its way through the mid-afternoon traffic. There were three bags with her in the back and another four in the trunk. It was just a bit sad to think her entire life back in Lima fit into seven bags. Granted, they were all pretty size-able ones.

She sighed audibly, resting her elbow on the window ledge and dropping her chin into her upturned palm. She'd dreamt her entire life about moving to New York. But those dreams were far from her reality. She never would have dreamt it would happen like this.

The cab driver fiddled with the radio and stopped on some station playing old rock. It was the tail end of a Rolling Stones song - maybe "Brown Sugar", she'd never been good at telling them apart without Finn there to tell her what was playing - and as it ended the song led seamlessly into the next. She recognized the opening chord and her stomach clenched.

"Please change the song," she rasped.

"What?"

"The song..."

_Just a small town girl_

_Living in a lonely world_

"Change the song!"

She didn't realize how loudly she'd spoken, but the cab driver's wary gaze in the rearview mirror clued her in. She murmured an incoherent apology and he switched the station. The song had been on for less than thirty seconds, but her entire body was in shock. Her palms were sweaty and she could feel the headache she'd been unable to shake for weeks worsen.

"It's only a song," she reminded herself softly. "It's _only _a song."

But it was more than that. She knew that. It had always been more, but especially now. It had been playing when she got the call.

**Flashback - 3 months ago**

"Mrs. Hudson?" A voice asked. Rachel had her phone wedged between her ear and shoulder as she made dinner. Behind her, Journey played from an old record player she'd picked up at a flea market. Finn had thought she was ridiculous with them already having two laptops with a boatload of music, but Rachel liked the pure sound of records. Plus, now she had an actual use for all those old Barbra vinyls.

"Yes, this is her."

_Streetlights_

_People_

_Living just to find emotion_

"We're calling about your husband."

_Hiding somewhere in the night_

She took a hold of the phone, stepping away from the stove as a cold dread settled in her stomach. "Yes? What is it?"

The man paused, and she knew then it was bad. People always paused before bad news. "There's been an accident."

_Don't stop believin'_

_Hold on to that feeling_

**End Flashback**

Rachel wiped at her eyes, her wedding band glinting in the window's reflection. It took the officer telling her three times what happened for her to fully grasp it. He'd been on his way home, pulling onto the expressway, when he was broadsided by a semi-truck. He hadn't been wearing a seatbelt which caused him to be thrown from the car. The officer assured her that he was dead on impact, as if that would make things better. It didn't.

She'd called Carol and Burt immediately, and listened to Finn's mother sob uncontrollably on the phone until Burt told her they'd come over and hung up. Over the next week, the three of them worked on funeral arrangements, all somewhat reluctant to admit that he was really gone. It wasn't until Rachel was packing up Finn's old t-shirts days after she buried him that she saw he was gone and was never coming back. She began to cry and didn't stop for three days.

It had always been Finn who told her she would end up back in New York. After they were married they settled in Lima and he became a choir director at McKinley. Rachel led the musicals and plays at the school while teaching voice lessons on the side. While she never fully gave up on her Broadway dreams, she genuinely felt content in Lima. Finn and her and set up a warm home, and she took pride in her students. All of that changed when he was gone. Her warm home felt cod and barren without him. Even the town had changed. She felt constantly on edge, expecting to see him in the hallways at McKinley or in their apartment, but he was never there. When Kurt suggested she come stay with him and Blaine for a few weeks, she couldn't have been more relieved.

"515 Brookside Lane," the cabdriver said, pulling to a stop.

"Thank you."

She unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the door, climbing out as she heard Kurt and Blaine come toward the car. They must have been waiting at the front of the building for her. Kurt was at his most nurturing, throwing his arms around her while Blaine worked on getting al her luggage out. It struck her as beautiful how well they complimented each other, and a sob caught in her throat.

"Oh Rach," Kurt said, wiping the tears from her cheeks. "You're going to make your mascara run. We don't want raccoon eyes, do we?"

"Seriously Kurt?" Blaine chided lightly, coming up beside the two friends. "You're giving the raccoon eyes lecture now?"

"Grief does not need to be ugly. Or raccoon-ed."

Rachel gave the a watery smile, throwing her arms around both of them.

"I've missed you guys so much."

"I'm sorry we couldn't make it in for the funeral," Blaine said. "I swear, Kurt even tried to talk to the American consulate to get us on a plane."

"There's no reason for you to apologize," Rachel said. "You two were on your honeymoon. I appreciated the card, though. And the flowers were beautiful."

"It's the least we could do. Come on, let's get you inside." Kurt stepped back her and eyed the pile of luggage. "Rach, no judgement, but did you bring everything you own?"

"No," Rachel said in a small voice. He glanced back at her and she said, "Okay, maybe. I just, I don't know, I started packing and this happened."

"It's completely fine, Rachel," Blaine said, picking up two bags and heading toward the front of the building. Just the two of them then, Kurt looked at Rachel and asked, "How are you doing? Really?"

Rachel considered telling him the truth - how everything hurt, even breathing. She considered telling him about her sleepless nights and how she could still smell Finn on her skin, but she didn't. It was too difficult to tell the truth, so she put on the survivor's smile/grimace she'd perfected over the past three months and told him, "I'm managing."

He paused and for a moment she thought he saw through her act, but then he took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"Come on, Rach, I think you need some Barbra."

She nodded, picking up bags and following him as she thought that this was one problem even Barbra couldn't solve.

* * *

Blaine and Kurt went to work throughout the week, leaving Rachel at the apartment to do what she pleased. The activities that would have interested her before - watching their vast musical collection or touring the city - didn't appeal to her. The only thing that really called to her was the couch, but she didn't want to succumb to that. The problem was, she didn't know how to be a widow. She figured she already did something wrong by not wearing black. But she didn't own much black clothing, and going shopping after your husband died felt wrong.

She sat on the couch, trying to find something to pass her time. As she sat there, at a loss for how she was supposed to handle any of this, she started to think about her life and how it was supposed to pan out. She was supposed to be with Finn. They were supposed to be happy and have a family, and have the life that they were promised when they took those vows. Instead he had to go on that expressway without his seatbelt and everything was ruined.

She stood up, anger coursing through her. She knew that Finn wasn't there but she yelled at him anyway. All the pent up aggression she'd held in since that phone call came out in a roar. The anger was misplaced, even she knew that, but she didn't know where else to direct it. She didn't know what else to do, so she kept yelling with tears streaming down her face.

"You should have been wearing your seatbelt! I _always _told you to wear one, and you promised me you would. You _promised _me you'd wear your seatbelt!"

Logically, Rachel knew a seatbelt wouldn't have saved him, but she couldn't help herself. She was yelling, her throat going raw, and then she was crying because Finn was always the one to talk her down, but he wasn't there anymore. He left her. They were a team, but now she was alone - just like before - and she couldn't forgive him for that.

Kurt came home first and was taken aback by the sobbing heap he found on his couch. Rachel tried to speak, but she couldn't form words, and everything hurt.

"Rachel, talk to me," he pleaded.

"I'm not okay," she let out between sobs, voice thick. "I'm not okay."

* * *

The next morning Rachel walked out into the kitchen and found Blaine and Kurt talking quietly. They stopped immediately when they saw her and she frowned. This was how it was back in Lima. All conversation stopped when she appeared, usually because she was the topic of conversation.

"Don't stop talking on account of me," she said, filling a mug with coffee.

"How are you feeling?" Kurt asked gingerly.

Rachel flushed at the memory of her breakdown the day before. "A little better."

There was a pause, Kurt pointedly burying his nose in his paper when Blaine said, "Rachel, I've written down the name and address of a grief counselor."

"Blaine!" Kurt hissed, his head popping up. "I thought we decided-"

"No, _you _decided," Blaine interrupted irritably. He looked back at Rachel and said, "There's no shame in needing help."

"I appreciate your concern but I don't need help," Rachel said firmly, sitting with them at the table.

"Rachel, Kurt found you crying uncontrollably."

"You told him," Rachel said. It was a statement, not a question.

"We're just worried about you," Kurt said by way of apology. He sighed and added, "While I'm not all for this breakfast shanghai - " he shot Blaine a look, " - you did scare me a bit. And our neighbor said he heard you yelling before?"

Rachel curled her fingers around the edge of the table and squeezed it hard.

"This is nothing I can't handle," she insisted. "Am I okay? No. I lost my husband. The love of my life. I'm...I'm not okay. But I will be. I just need some time."

"It could help to be around people going through the same thing as you," Blaine pressed.

"I don't-"

"To be surrounded by people who understand what's going on in your head," Blaine continued. He was so damn earnest, and she knew he only meant well, but she didn't want the help.

"I don't need other people," Rachel said stubbornly.

"Yes, you do," Kurt said, voice hard. She was surprised by the edge in his voice, and she remembered then that Kurt hadn't only lost a friend in Finn - he'd lost a brother, too. "Do you really think Finn would want you to go through this alone? Because if you do, you're crazy."

Rachel looked to the side, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from crying. She heard both of them get up from the table, and Blaine told her, "The name and address will be on the fridge."

* * *

She stared forlornly at the post-it note on the refrigerator. Who were they to tell her how to grieve when she didn't know how herself? Besides, weren't there those five stages of grief of whatever? Anger and despair were definitely on the list. What she was going through was normal. But then she got a text from kurt.

_You know we both love you. We just don't want to see your hurting._

In her grief, it was easy to forget how her situation impacted everyone else. She was a wife grieving her husband. Kurt and Blaine were two men grieving a brother and friend respectively, and simultaneously worrying about whether or not she'd go off the deep end.

So, she went. Not because she thought it would help, but because she felt she owed it to Kurt and Blaine. They opened their home to her without a second thought. Their only flaw was caring too much - and she could hardly blame them for that. The grief counselor's name was Henry Talbot, and when she arrived at his office she suddenly wondered whether or not she should have made an appointment first.

His office took up about half of the building's second floor, and when she spoke to the receptionist she pointed her over to Henry Talbot's personal office.

"Hello," he said, peering at her from behind thick black-rimmed glasses. "Did we have an appointment?"

"No," she said quickly, cheeks coloring. She knew she should have called. "I just...I'm Rachel Hummel. I lost my husband three months ago, and my friends gave me your name. I can come back-"

"Nonsense, Rachel, you're just in time," he said. He stood up and said, "My weekly group counseling meeting is at five."

"Group meeting?" she stammered. "Oh, I don't know-"

"Relax," he said with a soothing smile. "I don't make the first-timers talk. You can just sit and observe. See if it's a good fit for you."

He made it sound so sensible that Rachel couldn't help but nod and follow him out of his office and into a side room. It wasn't much larger than his office with chairs arranged in a circle.

"I thought they only do that in movies."

Harry smirked. "The arrangement is very conducive to an open dialogue."

"Oh, right," Rachel said, nodding. "That makes sense."

There were a few people already there and Harry greeted them while Rachel took a seat. She glanced around and though, _All these people lost someone_. She found that realization more sad than comforting. More people trickled in and Rachel listened to the casual chatter. She wondered how many of these people were regulars. Were there any new faces like her? Another person walked in and Rachel looked toward him, her eyes widening when she recognized him.

"Jesse?"

His eyes widened. "Rachel?"

It would have been a comical scene if they were anywhere but grief counseling. He sat next to her and said, "Well, I can honestly say I didn't want to see you here."

She smiled sadly. "I could say the same thing."

Both were silent, the obvious unasked question between them. Jesse bypassed it entirely, much to her relief and said, "Word of wise - avoid the cookies. They look good, but I swear they're toxic."

Rachel nodded. "I will avoid the cookies."

"The coffee's not bad. It's not five star or anything, but it's palatable."

"I think you may expect too much from these refreshments," she told him.

Jesse smiled a bit and shrugged. "When you come here every week you can't help but judge the food."

Rachel digested that bit of information and then asked, "How long have you been coming here?"

"About six months," he said. "And believe me, I was just about as happy to be here the first time as you are."

"What? I-"

"Rachel, you never had much of a poker face."

She sighed, gathering her hair to the side and pushing it over one shoulder. "Kurt and Blaine asked me to go."

"They were worried about you?"

Rachel nodded, but then said, "I'm fine, though."

"Of course you are," Jesse said, his words ringing as false as hers did.

Harry took his seat and then the meeting started. He began by everyone going around and introducing themselves. He didn't skip over Rachel for this, and she suddenly was concerned with if she'd be expected to share further.

"Alright, why don't we go around and talk about some progress we've made this week. It can be anything - just tell me something good about your week."

"I walked into my daughter's room today," the first woman said, voice soft and gentle. "And I stood in there for a few minutes without needing to leave. I thought it would be hard - it always was before - but this week felt different. It _was _different."

"That's wonderful," Harry said. "And how did that make you feel?"

The woman paused and then said, "Like I made peace with myself. The guilt, the belief that I could have done more, it went away. Not entirely. But I didn't feel as consumed by it."

Her voice wavered and the man next to her took her hand. Rachel saw quickly that they were husband and wife, and she was hit with such longing that she nearly gasped. The next few people went, some of the stories just as personal, others less so. It came to be Rachel's turn and she hesitated.

"Rachel's new to our crew," Harry filled in. "She'll just be listening today."

She let out a shaky breath.

The meeting continued, and then it was Jesse's turn to speak.

"I stopped recording Chopped," he said simply. The rest of the room stared at him, waiting for some elaboration. When Jesse didn't give any, Harry tentatively asked, "And how does that make you feel?"

"Good," Jesse said with a wry grin. "I hated that show."

The circle laughed a it, but Rachel couldn't tell if it was out of discomfort or they actually found humor in what Jesse said.

"I don't know why it took me so long to stop recording a show I hate," Jesse continued, face more serious. "I guess I thought part of her was still with me if I kept doing the little things. Recording her shows. Keeping the refrigerator organized."

Something about that struck a chord in Rachel, and without thinking she said, "I still change the station when a song Finn hated comes on."

Jesse looked at her in surprise, and she caught the reaction before he could smooth his face of expression. She didn't know if she should have interrupted and for a moment the silence made her think she had acted inappropriately.

"I'm sorry," she stammered. "I-"

"There's no need to apologize, Rachel," Harry said. "We're glad you're sharing."

Rachel smiled slightly and settled back into her seat.

* * *

When the meeting was over the group mingled over the sub-par cookies and coffee. Jesse came over to Rachel, who was the outlier of the group. Usually chatty, Rachel didn't know how to bond over grief. If she were being honest, she didn't know if she wanted to learn.

"So, Finn, huh?" Jesse asked without any introduction. She choked a bit on her coffee and nodded.

"Yeah."

"Well, shit," he breathed out, shaking his head. "I'm really sorry, Rachel."

"Thank you."

He glanced at her ring and asked, "You two were married?"

"For two years," she said. It occurred to her then that they would never have a three year anniversary. Jesse read into her silence and said, "They get better. The realizations that your life is forever changed. That might not be possible."

"Not when you put it that way," she grumbled.

"It does get better, though," he said with some finality.

"Thanks," Rachel said weakly. She felt twenty years older than when she walked into that room - her limbs heavy and muscles tired. "What about you?" she asked after a moment. "Who did you lose?"

"My fiancee," Jesse said, taking a sip of coffee. Rachel noticed his hand shook.

"I'm so sorry," Rachel said, wondering how both of them ended up in this awful situation. "Was it sudden?"

"Thankfully no," he said. "It was breast cancer. It didn't give us long, but enough time to say goodbye."

"That's nice," Rachel said wistfully, thinking of the last thing she'd said to Finn. It had taken her a long time to figure out exactly what it was, and when she did figure it out she was disappointed. The last thing she'd said to Finn was to pick up milk on his way home.

"And Finn?" Jesse asked, although Rachel could tell by his tone that he already knew the answer.

"Car accident," Rachel said, voice toneless. "He died instantly. No pain, or at least that's what they told me."

"I'm really sorry," Jesse said, imagining what it must have been like for Rachel to get that call. At least he had time to digest the information with Hannah. What Rachel went through was almost incomprehensible.

"It's fine," Rachel said, taking a deep breath. "It...it happened. I can't change that."

He studied her face, watching as she tried desperately to hold herself together. "So, you think you'll be coming back next week?"

Rachel turned her watery gaze to his. Even on the verge of tears, she still looked strong and determined. "I think I will."

**A/N: This was sort of depressing. Sorry about that. I wanted to write a more serious St. Berry story, and this seemed to fit the bill. If you want more chapters (I have plans for more) please leave feedback and let me know.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you for the feedback. I wasn't sure the sort of response that I'd get for that, and you all just blew me away. Thank you for your support on this story, and I hope you enjoy the next chapter.**

Day By Day

"What do you think about folk songs? I think the kids would like it. Something different, you know?"

"I can't say I have a strong opinion either way," Rachel said, threading her fingers through his and lifting their interlocked hands. Finn laugh, his chest rumbling beneath her cheek.

"You don't have a strong opinion on something music related?"

"Shut up," she teased, squeezing his hand. "Hey, when are tryouts for the solos again? Christa was all nervous during her lesson yesterday about them."

"Friday."

"That soon?" she asked, glancing up at him.

"The concert's only a month away," he said.

"I can't believe it," she murmured, turning against him and draping an arm over his waist. "Time's going by so fast."

"You can say that again. I'm the one who has to make them sound half-way decent in one month."

She laughed and pressed a kiss to his chest. "Don't you sound happy."

"It's terrifying. Now I know how Mr. Schue felt before all of our competitions."

The alarm started beeping and Rachel tucked her arm tighter around his waist.

"Not yet," she murmured. "I'm not ready."

"Just five more minutes," she pleaded. She was just so tired, and his body was warm and comforting. She didn't want to leave.

"Rach." She opened her eyes blearily, glancing around a room that wasn't her. The spot beside her in bed was empty. "Rach."

She sat up a bit and saw Kurt at the doorway in flannel pants and a grey tshirt.

"Your alarm has been going off for a while."

"Sorry," she mumbled sleepily, leaning over and shutting it off.

"How did you sleep through that? I think people in Chinatown heard it."

She smiled sheepishly. "Sorry about that. I'm a really heavy sleeper. Finn always..." she trailed off when she realized she was talking like he was alive again.

"Anyway," she said after a moment. "I'm sorry."

"Totally fine," Kurt said. "Come into the kitchen and eat with us. Blaine made blueberry pancakes. We saved you some."

He walked back out into the kitchen to let Rachel get ready and she pulled herself reluctantly from the bed. Rachel pulled on her robe and then went out into the kitchen. Blaine had put out a plate of pancakes just for her and Kurt was busy working on her cup of coffee.

"Sorry, we drank all of it before you were up," Kurt said, back to her. "We're just a bunch of caffeine addicts here."

"It's fine. You know, I could have made my own coffee."

"He likes fussing over someone," Blaine told her with a grin.

"You're making me sound weird," Kurt complained.

"Not at all," Rachel said, stepping over toward him and kissing his cheek. "You're a good host." She sat down in front of her pile of pancakes and added, "Besides, I already know how strange you are."

"That is very true,"Blaine intoned, shooting her a grin. "So, I'm thinking we should hit the flea markets this afternoon. What do you guys think?"

Kurt turned around with Rachel's coffee and said, "I think that's genius. What do you think Rachel?"

Kurt set down her coffee and she wrapped her hands around the warm mug before saying, "That sounds good, but we'll have to wait until after my grief counseling."

Blaine and Kurt were silent, both of them exchanging looks over the table. She hadn't given them much when she came back from that first meeting the week prior. They'd asked how it was and she told them it was okay. She didn't mention that she spoke during the meeting or that she planned on returning, and she certainly didn't mention Jesse. His being there implied something that she felt it wasn't her place to reveal. Both had assumed she wouldn't go back.

"What time is your meeting?" Kurt finally asked.

"One o'clock," Rachel said. "I should be back by three at the latest."

"Alright, then we'll go at three," Kurt said.

"That's better anyway," Blaine added. "We'll beat the crowds."

Rachel nodded, taking a sip of her coffee. Blaine and Kurt had adopted her into their morning routine almost automatically, and she took solace in the near normalcy that had developed between the three of them. They continued planning their day, asking for her input now and then. They were largely self-sufficient, though, and didn't say a word when she wondered back into her room to get ready for the meeting.

* * *

"You came back," Jesse said, appraising Rachel coolly when she sat next to him in the circle of chairs. She'd chosen the same one that she'd been in before, just in front of the refreshment table.

"Yeah, I came back."

"I wasn't so sure," he said. "I thought the cookies might have scared you off."

She smiled slightly. "They weren't as bad as you said."

"Is that so?"

"My dads were always baking awful cookies. I have a high tolerance."

He laughed. "Good to know. So, how are you doing?"

Her smile faltered. "I thought I was doing better. No, I was. I was doing better. And then I dreamed about him last night, and, I don't know. It has me feeling all off kilter again."

"I'm sorry," he said, lips pursed into a frown. "That's rough."

She nodded, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. Twenty minutes later, she was telling the dream to the entire group. The thought of sharing this much frightened her at first, but the purging of absolutely every feeling and thought from that dream was cathartic. She felt lighter, afterwards, as if a weight had been lifted and she could breathe again.

"We were in our bed in Lima," she said softly, caught up in the false memoir. That conversation never happened, yet it felt so real. "We used to talk in the morning after our alarm went off. We'd spend five, maybe then minutes just going on about the day or what was on our minds."

"How did it feel when you woke up?" Harry asked.

"Like I'd been plunged into cold water," she said. "The shock of being here and him not being with me...it was difficult."

"And how do you feel now?"

Rachel considered that for a moment. Sharing made her feel lighter, but it hadn't done much to relieve the constant ache in her chest that had been there ever since the call. Maybe that ache wasn't supposed to go away.

* * *

After the meeting Rachel and Jesse sat off to the side by themselves. Both skipped the cookies and drank lukewarm cups of coffee with too much powdered milk in them.

"Tell me about her," Rachel asked suddenly. Finn needed no explanation with Jesse - at least not much - but she knew nothing about his former fiancee.

"What do you want to know?" he asked, leaning back in his chair.

"Well, her name would be nice."

He smiled a bit. "Hannah. Her name was Hannah."

"Pretty name," Rachel murmured. She'd never met a Hannah before. She supposed that was still true. "What was she like?"

Jesse took a deep breath, and she understood the hesitance. It was difficult to really describe the person you loved. Words never seemed enough to convey what the person could. But now, words were all that were left.

"She had this laugh that you could hear across a room," Jesse began, voice soft - reverent even. "And she used to snort. She always snorted, and then I'd start laughing. She always yelled at me for that, but then we were laughing together and she'd forget why she was yelling." He paused, eyes staring off at a time only he could remember. "I think her laugh might be my favorite sound."

Rachel smiled sadly. Finn's laugh had been her favorite sound. Now she couldn't fully remember it.

"Was she a musical person?"

Jesse shook his head. "She hated them. I took her to see Evita once and she talked through the entire first act."

"She what?" Rachel said loudly, unable to stop herself. She was worried for a moment that Jesse would be upset, but he only laughed.

"I know. My thoughts exactly. We left after intermission because I told her that talking through the first act was comparable with giving Andrew Lloyd Webber the finger, and that just wasn't done."

Rachel smirked, imagining the lecture. "And how did she take that?"

"Oh, quite well. She was relieved to leave. For weeks after I wondered if she purposely ticked me off so that she wouldn't have to sit through the last act."

"She sounds wonderful," Rachel said, realizing too late the tense she'd used. Jesse was used to it, though. Just as she was whenever someone mentioned Finn in the present tense.

"She was," he returned easily, his eyes just a bit more hooded than normal. "She really was. So, tell me about Finn. I don't think my few months of knowing him are enough."

Rachel smiled a bit at that and said, "He ended up being McKinley's choir director. I taught voice lessons for his students."

"If that isn't a perfect setup, I don't know what is."

She nodded. "We were happy. He was wonderful with the kids. You should have seen him, Jesse. They really liked him, but respected him, too."

She fell silent when she thought of his choir kids at his memorial. They sang a compilation of songs that they'd prepared themselves after they heard the news. As she watched them sing, holding back tears, she knew that Finn was looking down on them and was proud. Those were those kids, and they had done good.

"I could imagine him being good with kids," Jesse said. "He was always sort of goofy. Kids love that stuff."

Rachel nodded, finding herself distracted by thoughts of the life her and Finn would never share. He would have made a remarkable father. She saw how patient he was with his students, and the love and dedication that poured out of him.

"I'm sorry," Jesse said after another prolonged bout of silence. "I feel like I've upset you somehow."

"No," she said truthfully, shaking her head. "You just...had me thinking."

"About him?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Everything we didn't get a chance to do."

"I know how that is," Jesse said, words heavy with meaning. She glanced at his empty ring finger and wondered if he had a ring at home or if they hadn't gotten around to that part yet. She imagined managing cancer probably trumped ring shopping.

"Aren't we a pair," Rachel said with a small smile. "Going on about our dead significant others."

"This _is _a grief counseling session," Jesse reminded her.

"I know," she said, standing up. "You want another cup of coffee?"

He nodded, gazing up at her. "Sure."

She returned with their coffees and he said, "You know, there's a difference."

"A difference between what?"

"Remembering them and refusing to let them go."

She stared down into her coffee cup, wondering which category she fell into.

* * *

The flea market was filled with people, even in the late afternoon. It was unseasonably warm and Rachel wound her hair into a bun on the top of her head, securing it with a scarf she bought at one of the stands. She walked around, catching sight of Blaine and Kurt now and again. They'd separated when it became evident that their tastes were diametrically opposed. The only items their tastes converged on were old vintage records. She'd found a few Liza ones for Kurt and she saw a Barbra one tucked under his arm.

She stopped at a booth and ran her fingers over a Journey album. It was only the album cover and it was framed with a little hook on the back so that you could hang it on a wall. She thought of Finn and how it was the exact thing he would have talked her into buying. She walked past it, but then found herself returning. Jesse's words rang in her ears.

"You've got to be kidding me," Kurt said from behind her. "A Journey album?"

"It's not a Journey album," Blaine pointed out. "It's framed. See, Kurt? It's art."

"A framed Journey album isn't art."

"Neither is a framed Barbra Streisand album, and you had that in your old apartment," Blaine said.

"Did you just insult Barbra? We might need to get a divorce."

"I'll take it," Rachel said, pulling her wallet from her purse. That evening Rachel put the framed album above the bed in her bedroom. She peered at it, and for the first time felt somewhat like she was home.

**A/N: Not super long. What can I say? I ran out of steam for this chapter. Anyhoo, some fun tidbits to look forward to in the future: Santana Lopez; Jesse and Rachel outside of grief counseling; and other exciting things. If you want to see them, PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thank you for the feedback on that last chapter. Here's the next one!**

Chapter Three

One month in and she made the guest room at Kurt and Blaine's into her own. They'd started going to the flea market every weekend and she'd collected a menagerie of odds and ends that she put around the room. She overheard Kurt tell Blaine that it looked like a gypsy vomited in their guest room, but she liked it. The frenetic nature of the mismatched pieces fit her state of mind, and for some reason that was comforting.

Blaine and Kurt offered her the guest room as her own after just two weeks, but it took her an additional week to say yes. She told herself over those seven days that it was happening too fast. Lima was her home. She couldn't leave her students. She had an entire life back there. All of those things were just stand-ins for the real problem, which was that leaving would definitively end that chapter of her life. Finn, Lima, marriage - the page would turn, and that terrified her. She didn't really know how to define herself anymore without those constants. She still wore his ring, and she still called Lima home. Was she ready to move on? It had only been four months, and while she new there was no definite "right" amount of time, something felt off.

"It's because you haven't gone back," Jesse said after the weekly meeting. She avoided his gaze, wrapping her hands tighter around the coffee mug. How could she go back? He would be there on every street, in every breath and movement. Just the thought made her palms sweat.

"I'm telling you Rachel, you need to go back to Lima."

"Why?" she pushed back. "It won't do me any good."

"Rachel, you know why," Jesse said leadenly, and her irritation flared.

"Closure?" she threw back heatedly. She waited for affirmation, and when she didn't get any treated the absence as one in the same. "I know he's dead, Jesse. I buried him. I buried my husband, how much more closure do I need?"

Jesse leaned forward and said, "You need to go back and see that life goes on. That light in your kitchen still flickers. Your rent is still due. The kids still have choir practice. All of that goes on without him."

"The light in our kitchen doesn't flicker," Rachel said weakly.

He smiled slightly and returned, "The sentiment is the same. You have to go back."

And so she did. It took her a full week to work up the nerve, but she enlisted the help of Kurt and Blaine, and together they took a roadtrip back to Lima. On the car ride there, she admitted they were moving her out of her and Finn's apartment. Neither of the men were surprised.

Rachel felt her stomach flip when Blaine pulled into a spot in front of her apartment building. The landscaping was different in front - a few new bushes - and she wondered how much else had changed in her absence. They took the elevator up to the sixth floor, and then she opened the door to her apartment, holding her breath when she walked in.

Everything was just as she left it. She was naturally a tidy person, and while she typically lectured Finn into picking up after himself, some of his messier habits stuck. After the accident she'd been reluctant to move anything. First she had been too depressed to do much more than leave the bed. Then, she had found a sort of comfort in the remnants of her husband that remained in the apartment. Now, the apartment felt so familiar that she half expected him to walk out of their bedroom. One of his sweatshirts was flung over the back of the couch, the left sleeve partially tucked in its armhole. His tennis shoes sat in front of the sofa, laces still tied and backs worn from him sliding his feet in and out all those months without untying them.

She wandered into the bedroom, and his pajamas were still balled up beside the hamper. In the bathroom, his razor rested on the sink beside the can of shaving cream.

"I don't think I can do this," Rachel whispered, wrapping her arms tightly around herself. Kurt came up behind her and laid his hands on her shoulders.

"We're here for you, Rach. Whatever you need."

"Water," Rachel said hoarsely, staggering forward and sitting on the edge of the bed. "I need water."

Kurt nodded, rushing off to get her water. He came back quickly and handed her the Blackhawks glass Finn had brought back from Chicago when he and Puck had gone to see part of the Stanley Cup. Rachel started laughing then, hysterical worrying-the-neighbors laughter.

"Rachel?" Kurt said gingerly.

"I'm fine," she assured him, taking a sip of water. "It's just, Finn got this glass, and -"

"Oh, Rachel, I'm sorry. I didn't-"

"Don't be sorry," she said, shaking her head. "I'm tip-toeing around here, terrified of shaking up any memories." She sighed ,running her fingers through her hair. "Which is ridiculous. That's all that's left here. Memories."

She was silent for a stretch and Kurt asked, 'What do you want to do?"

Rachel took a deep breath and let it out. "I want to start packing."

* * *

She ended up making three piles. There was one for Carol, one for donation, and then finally one for herself. Carol's pile was the largest as she tried to figure out what a mother would want to keep. The donation pile came in at second. She threw the everyday things in there, like undershirts and socks. Her pile was the smallest, only holding a few items. She didn't want to bring all of Finn back with her to New York. He belonged here in Lima - he always had. And if she were being honest, some shirt or book wasn't going to keep her husband's memory alive. They were only objects; the real thing was gone now, and random odds and ends wouldn't bring him back.

In the end, she kept his football jersey, his favorite coffee mug, and the worn yellow t-shirt he'd worn on their honeymoon. She'd caught a stomach bug on that trip and spent most of it in bed for the wrong reason. He was by her side that entire trip, feeding her chicken noodle soup and holding her hair when she puked it all up. Her memories of that honeymoon were admittedly hazy (a feverish state can do that to a person) but what she did remember clearly was him and that yellow shirt.

It was nearly dinner time when the apartment was boxed up. The few boxes she'd take back with her were pressed again the wall, and the rest were tidily stacked in front of the couch.

"So, the rest will go in storage?" Blain asked. "Or will Carol take them?"

"Only the ones marked for her. Burt will pick them up tomorrow," Rachel said, wiping her clammy palms on her pants. It was a strange sight to see the apartment reduced to paper boxes. Just hours ago it looked like neither her or Finn ever left, now it looked as sterile as a hospital.

"Come on, let's go to Breadsticks," Kurt said, gently taking a hold of her arm and pulling her away from the sight of her packed-up-former-life. "It isn't a true trip to Lima without some Breadsticks."

"Let's go somewhere else," Rachel said quickly.

"Somewhere else? But you love Breadsticks, and I have several of your semi-pornograhpic-dreams about their baked pasta to back me up."

She didn't want to go because that had been her and Finn's place when they were married. Beyond their time in high school, Rachel and Finn had gone there every Friday night while they were married. It was a tradition of sorts, and today was Friday and the thought of going there was almost too much to handle. But then she thought about what Jesse had said about her needing to go home. He had been right, and she needed to be honest and recognize that home was not just their apartment.

She took a deep breath and let it out.

"You're right. Let's go to Breadsticks."

* * *

That night she sat in bed back in New York, stomach full and heart heavy with all the memories that were no more. But she felt something else, something she hadn't had before. It was faint, more of a murmur than a true feeling, but it was there all the same. She reached over to her nightstand and picked up the phone tree that she'd gotten after her first grief counseling. Henry had told them all to reach out to each other if they needed help.

"We all think that grief is something you have to go through alone, but that's not true," he had said. "That's the farthest from the truth. Reach out to your friends here. Listen to each other. Take comfort in this shared experience - as terrible as it is - and help each other move forward."

She didn't let herself think too much while she dialed the number and pressed her cell phone to her ear. He picked up after three rings.

"Hello?"

"Jesse, hi," she said. "It's Rachel."

There was a pause and she wondered if she shouldn't have called. Maybe he was busy, or he didn't want to be bothered with her outside of those weekly one hour meetings.

"Can you talk?" she asked gingerly.

"Of course," he said immediately. "Are you okay?"

"I went to Lima today," she told him. "Boxed up the apartment."

There was a pause and then he asked, "How was it?"

"Difficult," she admitted. "Finn was...everywhere. It was impossible not to think about him. First we were in the apartment and his things were everywhere. And then we went to Breadsticks."

"Man, I forgot about that place," Jesse said. "Food still as good as I remember?"

"Even better, actually," she said, smiling a bit.

"Really? Now I want to go back to Lima." She could hear the smile in his voice. "Did you order your baked pasta?"

"How do you know I order baked pasta?" she asked, surprised that he knew that. She didn't remember them going to Breadsticks together.

"Prom your junior year," Jesse explained. "You, me, Mercedes and Sam all went before, remember?"

"Yeah," she said softly, more memories rushing toward her. "You remembered my order from that one time?"

"I have an exceptional memory, Rachel."

She laughed a bit, and then thought what a miracle it was that laughter was even possible after the day she had. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For convincing me to go back," she said.

"That wasn't me, Rachel," he said. "All I did was suggest it. You were the one who got yourself down there, not me."

She smiled a bit and asked, "Am I hearing what I think I'm hearing? Is Jesse St. James being modest?"

He laughed, and her smile grew wider. "Yes, Rachel, you are hearing that."

She settled further into her pillows and said, "Well, I'm still thanking you."

"Alright, you're welcome then."

Rachel yawned aloud, wiping her eyes with her free hand.

"Sounds like you need some sleep," Jesse said.

"Yeah. It was a long day."

"You sleep then. I'll see you next week."

"Sure," she said, scooting further down into bed and turning on her side. "Or, you know, you could see me earlier than next week."

"Earlier, huh? And how would that work?"

"How about lunch?" she asked nervously. She was venturing toward some land that she had never stepped foot on with Jesse St. James, and that was friendship. She only hoped he'd meet her halfway.

"Eating food together in public. That's very daring, Ms. Berry."

"Look, I love Kurt and Blaine. I really do. But I need some friends that aren't, well, them. So, what do you say?"

"I say that I am honored to be considered friend material," he returned smoothly.

"Are you mocking me?" she said gingerly. "Because I've had a long day. I'm in no mood for mocking."

He chucked and said, "I'm not mocking you, Rachel. I would love to be your friend. And to eat food with you in public."

"Good. So, we'll talk later and set up a time," she said.

"Okay."

"Okay."

There was a pause and Jesse said, "You were supposed to be going to bed, remember?"

"Oh, right. Yes. I am going to bed. Good night, Jesse."

"Good night, Rachel."

She hung up and put her phone on the nightstand before reaching up and turning off the light. She burrowed under the covers and drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

**A/N: The slow progression from friends to something in between begins! Hope you enjoyed this. If you are reading, please leave feedback. I want to know if people are reading this :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hope you enjoy this.**

Chapter Four

Rachel stepped off of the subway, taking the familiar route to the coffee shoppe where she met Jesse each week. They had a sort of routine. First they went to Sacred Grounds and had coffee and some sort of pastry. They usually stayed there for around an hour and then went over to either the vintage shop around the corner or an old record store two blocks down. Yesterday had been the vintage shoppe, so Rachel was betting that it would be a record store day.

They'd been seeing a lot of each other in the past few weeks. The tentative bloom of friendship had grown into a genuine companionship. Whatever tumultuous history the two of them had, their respective losses and ultimate healing bonded them in a way that neither anticipated. It was nice for Rachel to get out of the apartment, too. The only job she had was back in Lima, so her days in New York were relatively unfilled. At first she had liked the slow pace. It had been a maddened rush after Finn died as she tried to coordinate the wake and funeral and the luncheon afterwards and every other little thing that cropped up. She couldn't find it in herself to make Carol do anything, so she handled it all on her own. Sedentary life had been a welcome change. But she could feel her natural restlessness returning. Idleness had never been her friend, and in recent weeks she had been anxious for something to fill her free time.

Instinctively, she knew she needed more than a friend to get coffee with but for the time being it worked well. Jesse worked from home composing music, so he was available nearly any time she wanted some diversion. Over their coffee, he told her about the new piece he was composing for a musical being produced by one of his NYADA buddies.

"I think it's my favorite piece so far," he said. "I was just sitting on the subway and the melody came to me. The people around me must have thought I was crazy because I kept humming it to myself so that I wouldn't lose the thread."

Rachel laughed. "I'm sure they've dealt with worse."

"It's exciting, though. The music is almost all done. We just have one more song to go and then we have a full score."

Rachel smiled softly, shaking her head. He took in the look on her face and asked, "What?"

"I just...look at you," she said wistfully. "You're _making _musicals. That's amazing. I can hardly believe how far you've come. I mean, I can believe it. If anyone would it would be you. But..." she trailed off, glancing to the side. Talking that way reminded her of just how far she hadn't gone. All her dreams had been put on the back burner in Lima and now she scarcely remembered how to dream at all. "I'm just really happy for you."

"Thanks," he said. "I, um, actually wanted to talk to you about something. About the musical."

"Okay," she said, picking up her coffee and taking a sip.

"Would you go through some of the pieces with me?"

She glanced at him over the rim of her coffee cup. "You want me to sing them?"

"Yeah. We don't have the musical cast yet, of course, and I think it'd really help in the last editing stages for me to hear the songs performed."

"Couldn't you just sing them?"

"It's different when I'm singing them," Jesse said. "But, if you don't want to do it-"

"No, I do," Rachel interrupted. Just the thought of singing original compositions by him made her head spin. "I definitely do."

He grinned. "Great. We can go after the record store."

She grinned and nodded. It was a record store type of afternoon.

* * *

They didn't spend long in the record store, both of them secretly too eager to hear those songs to stay from his apartment for too long. He lived a bit away from where they were so he hailed a taxi and they rode to his apartment. It was a classic New York brownstone and Rachel thought to herself that it fit him perfectly. There was no elevator, so they walked the four flights of stairs up to his apartment. When they walked inside she stopped for a moment. What she saw in front of her was nothing like what she expected. He glanced back and laughed when he saw her still standing in the doorway.

"You can walk in, Rachel."

"Oh, right," she stammered, stepping forward into the apartment.

She'd always thought of him as a minimalist. If his clothes said anything about him, it was that he liked clean lines and monochromatic schemes. His apartment told an entirely different story. It was all lush reds and warm browns. The kitchen was pretty standard, but the living room was eclectic with funky figures and striking odds and ends. The only pieces that she seemed to recognize him in was the small piano nestled in the corner, and for some reason the chocolate brown leather sofa. He saw her eyeing a tall vase-like structure in the corner and he said, "I picked that up in Uganda a few years ago."

"You went to Uganda?"

He nodded, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "I went on a mission trip with my church. We were there for about a month, getting to know the people and helping them with different projects. One of the main ones was developing a system for them to get clean water. Before we went there, what they were drinking was just...amazing. And not in a good way."

"What else in here is from there?"

He went around the room and pointed at some tribal figurines and a beautiful pitcher displayed in a book shelf. Rachel pointed out a particularly striking trinket and he said, "That's from the Honduras, actually."

"You went to the Honduras, too?" Rachel asked loudly.

He smirked and said, "No, one of my buddies did. He brought it back for me."

"Oh," Rachel said, cheeks flushing. "Your apartment is beautiful, Jesse."

"Thanks." He moved over to the piano and sat down. "Are you ready to sing?"

Rachel nodded, following him to the piano. She stood beside him, nerves rattling in her chest. It had been a long time since she'd sung like this. She'd done some work with her students, but she always went with the notion that those lessons were a place for her students to shine, not her. She hadn't properly sung since college.

Jesse shuffled through a pile of music stacked on the top of the piano and made a sort of "aha!" noise when he found the right piece. He put it on the stand and said, "This is the female lead Natalie's first big solo. She's singing about a boy that she's fallen in love with. They met in the previous scene. Not to bore you with details, but it's at a carnival and might just be the greatest meeting ever devised."

Rachel grinned. "Now I want to see this on stage."

Jesse glanced back and said, "From your mouth to some backers' ears. So, are you ready?"

Rachel took a deep breath and nodded. "Yes."

He played the intro and she was struck by the beauty of the opening notes. She didn't know why she was surprised. If Jesse knew anything, it was music. Her entrance came and she sang the first note, relieved to hear that her voice wasn't in too poor shape. She'd worried momentarily that she wouldn't be able to follow him, but Jesse proved to be a sensitive pianist, matching her with every change in pace. The song was beautiful, and it fit her voice perfectly. They came to the clear rise of the piece and Rachel inwardly prayed she'd reach the high notes. When she did effortlessly, she wondered why she had worried in the first place. The song ended and she felt like she had just run a marathon. Her cheeks were flushed and her breathing was uneven. She'd forgotten the rush of a performance, and she found herself greedily wanting more.

He turned back around toward her and grinned. "You're just as good as I remembered."

"Thank you."

He began to say something but then stopped, wrapping his fingers tightly around the edges of the piano bench. Just when she went to ask him what happened next, he stood abruptly and suggested they sit down on the couch. She nodded, moving over to the couch and then turning toward him when he sat beside her.

"Jesse-"

"Are you planning on staying in New York?" he interrupted.

"I don't know," she began. "Probably, why?"

"I want you to be my Natalie."

Her eyes widened. "You want...Jesse-"

"Those songs were written for you, Rachel. Hell, the part practically was written for you."

"What?"

"You said that you've been getting restless at Kurt and Blaine's. And if you're staying here, why not?"

"Jesse, that's not..." she trailed off, pressing her lips together.

"You're too good to just be the voice teacher, Rachel," he pressed. "You're too good for that. You always have been."

"This is a lot for you to just throw at me," Rachel said, needlessly defensive. He was offering her the opportunity of a lifetime and she was being ungrateful. But sitting in his tribal living room with the melody of the song still playing in her ears, she found herself overwhelmed.

"You can think about it," he said. "In fact, you should. Think about it, Rachel. Think about the life you could have. The one you've always been meant for. You could be on the stage again, Rachel. Where you belong."

It was tempting, as her off-stage life had been lacking. There was nothing like your husband being killed to make you want a little less of your off-stage life. But was this the right time? She didn't even know if she would be staying in New York. Sure, she had moved out of Lima and New York had always sort of been the end destination, but what did she really know? Lately, she'd begun to think she didn't know anything at all.

"Anyway, take some time and think it through," Jesse said.

She nodded. "I will. And thank you. For even considering me, I mean. It's an honor, truly. That piece is beautiful and I'm sure the rest are, too."

"You're welcome. Just, promise me you'll really think about before you tell me no."

She smiled a bit. "I will."

* * *

Rachel went back home that afternoon confused and bothered in a way that she hadn't been in quite some time. First, there was the unexpected offer. Never in a million years did she think Jesse would offer her a part in his musical. In fact, she didn't even know if he _could _do that. And then, there was the issue that she wanted to talk about it but neither Kurt or Blaine knew that she was talking with Jesse.

That was a fairly large problem. But, as she stood in front of what could very well be a crossroads in her life, she tossed aside any worries that Kurt and Blaine would disapprove of her and Jesse's new friendship, and spilled the beans over dinner.

"Jesse," Kurt said. "Jesse St. James."

"Yeah. That's the only Jesse we all know," Rachel said hurriedly. "Anyway, I -"

"Hold on," Kurt said, holding up his hand. She exhaled loudly, settling in for a long conversation about the thing that she didn't want to talk about. "You guys are friends now? How long?"

"We met again at that first grief counseling meeting," she explained. "We only saw each other once a week for a while, and then we started getting coffee."

"How often do you see him now?"

"I don't know," Rachel said with a shrug. "A couple times a week?"

Blaine and Kurt exchanged a look.

"What?" she asked.

"Are you guys...you know?" Kurt asked gingerly.

"Um, no. I don't know," Rachel said irritably. "Try using your words, Kurt."

"Dating," Blaine supplied. "He wants to know if you're dating."  
"What? No!" Rachel said, shaking her head. "We're not-we're friends. Just friends. Besides, I couldn't do that to Finn. It's...it's too soon."

Kurt sensed a freakout on the horizon and said, "Okay, okay, just checking. So, you're friends."

"Yeah. Good friends. He's really been there for me through all the stuff I've been going through."

"What was the second thing you wanted to tell us?" Kurt asked warily. Rachel hinted it was bigger than the first reveal, and if that held true Kurt wasn't so sure he wanted to hear it.

"Yes. The second thing. Well, Jesse composes music," Rachel explained. "And he's working on developing a musical with a friend from college. He asked me if I would be one of the leads."

"No way," Kurt breathed out. He immediately took back anything he had thought before. He was damn happy to hear this news. "Rachel, that's amazing!"

"Congratulations!" Blaine added.

"Guys, hold on," Rachel said. "I haven't said yes yet."

"What do you mean you haven't said yes?" Kurt said. "Are you seriously considering turning it down?"  
"I don't know," Rachel said. "It all just seems so sudden. I mean, I just moved out of Finn and my place in Lima and-"

"Rachel, you can't turn this down," Kurt said. "This is what you've always wanted. I mean, come on, you never wanted to live in Lima and be a voice teacher. You did that for Finn."

"I was happy," Rachel said defensively.

"I know you were," Kurt said placatingly. "But you were happy because you were with Finn. That's why Lima was okay. That's why being a voice teacher was okay. But he's not here anymore, Rachel. You don't have to settle. It's time you went for your dreams again."

The concept was still fuzzy to her. Going for her dreams. She'd flipped some sort of switch in Lima and turned off the longing. She knew she wouldn't be truly happy if she still longed for something else, so she made herself be content with what she had. She made Lima her New York, and transformed helping students into her life's work. But now, with time and distance, she could see the fabricated sense of contentment she'd built around herself. Those weren't her dreams. They had never been her dream, but Finn was so that made it alright. But Kurt was right. Finn wasn't here anymore and he never would be again. It was time she got her true dreams back.

"I'm going to call him," Rachel said with a small grin, getting up from the table. Behind her Kurt and Blaine voiced their support as she dialed Jesse's number. He answered after only one ring.

"Rachel?"

"I'll do it."

**A/N: And the next part of this story is rolling! Please leave feedback :)**


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